


The Enemy of My Enemy

by IWantMyOwnNightFury (WhatsInAName99)



Category: Dragons: Riders of Berk (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Related, Death, Developing Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Internal Conflict, Mild Humor, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Series Spoilers, Teen Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsInAName99/pseuds/IWantMyOwnNightFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stoick is deathly ill.  The Berserkers are on the warpath.  Berk and its allies are in danger.  Now Hiccup must face the trials of leading two tribes and learn that love, life, and war are all full of difficult decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old Alliances

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first HTTYD fanfic, so helpful reviews will be seen as very...well, helpful!

It was a rare warm sunny morning during the short summer on the island of Berk when chief Stoick awoke to a clattering sound coming from the roof of his home.

“That dragon,” the chief muttered as he sat up in bed before stretching and yawning loudly.

It was the morning routine in the Haddock household. Nearly every morning for over a year now, Toothless the Night Fury would be the first one awake. The pitch-black dragon would climb onto the roof thru Hiccup’s bedroom window and watch the sunrise. Then, in his excited anticipation, he would jump up and down, shaking the house until Hiccup awoke to take Toothless on their morning flight. Stoick would rise very soon thereafter, then meet Gobber in the Great Hall for breakfast before making his rounds on his trusty blue and gray Thunderdrum named Thornado.

It was only a few moments after sitting up in bed that Stoick heard the clumping of boots, well, _a_ boot anyway, and the clicking of metal against wood.

“Morning, dad,” Hiccup called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Good morning, Son,” Stoick called back. “Off to the academy?”

“I have to stop by Gobber’s first. The strap broke on Toothless’ saddle last night and I have to make a new one. See ya, Dad.”

“Hiccup, wait.”

Stoick was sitting on the edge of the bed when Hiccup entered the room.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I’ll be needing your help this afternoon. I set sale for Ironfort first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“I know. Every three years you have to go to Ironfort and sign a treaty with the Adiarf’R tribe.” Hiccup sighed. “I hope it doesn’t go anything like the last treaty signing with the Berserkers.” He shuddered at the memory of the young Berserker Chief, Dagur the Deranged, coming within seconds of killing Ruffnut and Tuffnut’s Zippleback Barf-and-Belch.

Stoick laughed. “Don’t worry, Hiccup. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this, but Trader Johan brought a note from Chief Ingialdr the Eccentric of Ironfort on his last visit. It said that they had heard of our dragon training and were actually quite curious about it. I’ll even be bringing Thornado with me.”

Hiccup smiled slightly. “Well, that’s good news.”

“You may very well have started a world-wide revolution, Hiccup. Now run along and get that saddle fixed. I’ll need you both later.”

Just then they both felt a slight shaking and heard the shrill, raspy call of a very impatient dragon.

“Sounds like Toothless is getting stir-crazy. Gotta go, dad.”

Stoick only nodded and watched his son dash out of the room. He heard the front door slam and, within a second, the scratching of claws on the roof and a quiet _thump_ on the ground just outside. A satisfied hum came from the dragon and Hiccup hurriedly spoke in words that Stoick could not quite make out. Then came a patter of four feet that quickly faded.

Apparently the boy and the dragon were not flying, and the chief wondered with a wisp of a thought why. Then he remembered. The strap. It was unsafe to fly with a lose saddle, and no saddle meant no tale rigging, and no tale rigging meant that Toothless was flightless, only able to glide very short distances.

Every so often, such as in that moment, Stoick let his memory drift to the reason why the Night Fury was crippled for life. Hiccup’s old words echoed thru his mind.

_Okay, but I shot a Night Fury._

Hiccup really had shot a Night Fury, and in doing so had destroyed its left tailfin. Stoick involuntarily chuckled at the strange irony of it all. At first they had literally tried to kill each other. Now they were connected, inseparable, and each completely reliant on the other. Such was not only the case with Hiccup and Toothless, but with Berk and the dragons as a whole. Had it not been for Hiccup’s pureness of heart, Berk would still be caught in a continuous, never-ending cycle of death and destruction; a perpetual war of man verses dragon.

Stoick’s heart swelled with pride at the thought. He truly was proud beyond words to call that “talking fishbone” of a boy his one and only son and heir.

The chief yawned one last time and rubbed his bearded face. He stood from his bed and when he did, he suddenly felt a strange sensation deep in his chest. It was not quite a pain, just a fluttering feeling. It traveled down to his stomach making it churn like he had eaten a bad bowl of chowder. After a moment or so and a few steady breaths is subsided, and Stoick went about his way without a second thought. He prepared himself for the day, donning first his chainmail, then his boots, belt, cape, and last but certainly not least his helmet. It was this helmet that carried the legacy of Vallhalarama, his beautiful and loving wife who had passed away from illness just weeks before Hiccup’s fourth birthday.

He opened the front door to leave his home for the day and proudly took in the sight before him. Vikings and dragons alike were traveling across town, socializing, and peacefully going about their daily lives.

And there it was again, that lightness in his chest and twisting in his gut. Once again he brushed it off. He was a Viking, and a Viking chief at that. Stoick the Vast was not about to let a little wooziness keep him from doing his duty to his tribe.  
……………………………………………………………………………

“How high do you think we can go, Bud?” Hiccup shouted over the whistling wind to Toothless, who flapped his strong black wings sending a _whoosh_ of air and cloud around them. An inquisitive purr rumbled in the dragon’s chest, telling Hiccup that he was not certain just how high, but that he was more than willing to find out.

“Alright, Bud. Let’s Go!” Hiccup clicked his customized prosthetic in the stirrup to adjust Toothless’ tailfin, and the pair darted straight upwards with a sudden burst of speed that almost made Hiccup lose his breath. Almost. He was used to the rush after over a year of riding Toothless many times a day. Yet at the same time he was never used to it. He no longer felt the dizziness or the motion sickness that most often accompanied their flights in the early days. That was one good thing. Another good, no, great thing was that Toothless never ceased to amaze him. The physical and emotional pleasure-high he always experienced while flying on the back of his dragon never lost its luster, nor did the pure closeness that he felt with his best friend; the first true friend he had ever had.

He was glad he had repaired the saddle stronger than it had been before, because this was exactly how it has snapped the previous night. They were higher now than they had ever been before. Even the battle against the Red Death had not taken them up this high.

“Whoa, Bud,” Hiccup said, patting head and slowing them down. “Let’s call this high enough.”

Toothless stopped their accent and glided thru the semi-dark cloudy thickness. It was icy cold and brutally windy. Hiccup had to wrap his slender arms around Toothless’ neck to keep from being blown away by the sheer force of the straightwinds at their altitude.  
“Okay Bud, let’s get down from here.”

Toothless nodded in agreement as best he could with his rider’s arms restricting his head movements.

Hiccup looked down thru the clouds at the expanse of sea beneath them. It was fascinating. He could see for miles and miles. Not just Berk, but Outcast Island, Dragon Island, even Ironfort, the outermost Island of the archipelago, were all visible to him. Just off the shore of Ironfort, Hiccup could just barely make out the tiny forms of ships in what appeared to be a fishing formation. He very carefully unwrapped one arm from Toothless and reached into his satchel to retrieve his spy glass. Now that he had a better view, he could see another group of ships approaching the small fishing fleet. These ships, however, were not peaceful vestals. Their straight-line lead by a flagship was unmistakably an attack formation. Toothless must have seen what Hiccup saw with a much keener vision. The way he flattened his earflaps against his head and bared his teeth told Hiccup that Toothless did not like the sight of this any more than he did.

“Toothless, ease down a bid, Bud. I want to see this.”

Slowly the dragon descended, but the wind and the cold did not ease.

“Those are Berserker ships,” Hiccup observed aloud. Toothless growled maliciously in understanding. Neither of them had forgotten Dagur’s attempt to kill Toothless when they had met by chance on Dragon Island. It was that meeting that had exposed Berk’s lie that they were still a dragon-killing culture and proved that they were, in fact, training dragons.

Hiccup tensed. Toothless felt it and questioned him with a curious hum.

“I don’t like the looks of this.”

As the two continued to watch, a terribly sight unfolded miles and miles beneath them. They watched in horror as the Berserker ships suddenly and relentlessly opened fire on the Adiarf’R fishing fleet. Hiccup wondered why they did not fight back until it occurred to him that fishing boats would be unarmed. Helplessly they watched as their allied men sat just as helplessly and defenselessly as they were bombarded by flaming catapults, booming cannons, as souring arrows. The fishing fleet, unable to defend itself against the merciless onslaught of war machinery, was doomed. Ship by ship the entire fleet burned and sunk in a matter of minutes. They had not even had a chance to escape. Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the Berserker warships sailed away.

A strange, unwelcome feeling that Hiccup barely recognized as not just anger, but pure rage and hatred flared up inside of him. He knew without a doubt that every. Single. Fisherman aboard those ships had just been killed; slaughtered without cause or provocation. Those people were his allies and had been so for a century.

A century ago the Hooligans, the Berserkers, and the Adiarf’Rs had all been enemies of one another. Then, by circumstances long lost in history, the Hooligans of Berk and the Adiarf’Rs of Ironfort formed a peace pact to protect each other from the Berserker army. Together, they kept their mutual enemy at bay for fifty years. Then came the first treaty between the Hooligans and the Berserkers. As a condition if this treaty, neither tribe could make any act of war against Ironfort and the Adiarf’R tribe.

This, Hiccup knew in his very soul, was a turning point in history. Even after the mash-up on Dragon Island, the Hooligan’s treaty with the Berserkers still stood as far as Stoick was concerned. But now things had changed. Now Dagur the Deranged had broken a treaty of a half-century

This would undoubtedly mean war.


	2. Talk of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three chiefs. Three plans. One war soon to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 has officially irritated me! Notice all my characters in the character tags. Notice how the antagonist's's name is spelled. On CTN, his name is spelled DAGUR. On the FF.net character listing it is spelled DAGUR. AO3 has switched the A and the U. They are spelling it wrong. Not me.

The young chief stared out at the vast expanse of sea before him with something dark and evil in his eyes; a fiendish grin twisted on his thin lips. The trap was set and baited now and all was going well according to plan. The scent of burning ships still lingered on his cloths. He breathed deeply thru his nose, nostrils flaring, taking in the intoxicating aroma of fire and fresh death mingled with the sweet ocean breeze.

This was what he was born for.

“Um, excuse me, Chief Dagur?” came a cautious voice from behind him. Chief Dagur the Deranged huffed out a frustrated breath and spun around to see one of the crewmen of his flagship the _Voldelig Bolge_.

“What do you want, Brynjar? Can you not see that I’m basking in glory here?”

“I’m sorry chief. But why in Thor’s name are we turning back? Had we continued on to Ironfort, we could have annihilated the entire –“

“For the last time,” Dagur interrupted, “I DON’T CARE about the stupid Adiarf’Rs! Do I have to explain this to you like you’re a child? Fine. Now that my mighty armada has attacked Ironfort, Stoick will spare Berk’s resources to go to the aid of his oldest and strongest allies. He’ll even be there personally in a few days for the treaty signing and that, my good but strategically challenged man, is when I will STRIKE!” He punctuated his last word with a slam of his fist down on the ships rail. “As soon as Berk is left distracted and leaderless, I will sail my armada right up to their docks and wipe. Them. Out!”

“But what about the Dragon Conqueror?”

Dagur scoffed. “Hiccup? Ha! That runt is of no threat to me. Especially once I mount his Night Fury’s head on a stick.” He clenched his fists and shook them threateningly into the air.

Ever sense he had met Hiccup that night on Dragon Island, he could think and dream of little else but vengeance. It was bad enough that Stoick the Vast had lied to him and betrayed the Berserkers by hiding those dragons and even having them at all. But he had trusted Hiccup. He knew even at the time that he should not have, but never the less he had truly felt a deep brotherly love for the boy. Then even Hiccup betrayed him, lied to him, humiliated him, and led him into a trap. The Night Fury, the ultimate prize, would be his compensation. He would settle for nothing less.

Brynjar stepped back. “But…” he hesitated, “But Dagur, you know that the Dragon Conqueror and the Night Fury brought down the Red Death. They’ve even bested Alvin the Treacherous on numerous –“

“ENOUGH!” Dagur shouted at the top of his voice, causing every crewmember to look his way in surprised curiosity. “And stop calling him the ‘Dragon Conqueror.’ That scrawny sorry excuse for a Viking may know dragons, but he doesn’t know the first thing about REAL war. I’ll slay the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself and make Hiccup watch me while he wails and begs.” Dagur raised the pitch of his voice to mock Hiccup. “ ‘Stop it, Dagur! Don’t do it, Dagur! Please don’t hurt my precious dragon Dagur! Oh no, no, AAAAAAAH!’ ”

For a moment, Dagur went morbidly silent before suddenly erupting in a fit of maniacal laughter that lasted for almost a full minute. “I’ll laugh at them both and cut of the Night Fury’s head before I run the chief’s son thru with the same sword, blood still wet on the blade,” he threatened thru his continuous laughter.

Once his fit subsided, he caught his breath and smiled devilishly, leaning in just inches from Brynjar’s face. When “When Stoick returns from his little trip, there will be nothing left of Berk. Or his son.”  
..................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

“What!?” Stoick’s voice boomed and echoed violently thru the Great Hall that was currently occupied only be the chief, Gobber, and Hiccup, who had just described the violent sight that he had witnessed: Berserker warships randomly opening fire on a fleet of unarmed Adiarf’R fishing boats and then simply sailing away.

“Dad, I really think you should think twice before going there. It’s not safe to-“

“By the power of Thor, it’s not safe! Our allies are not safe. WE are not safe now. But let me be cursed by Odin if I miss that treaty signing!”

Hiccup sighed in frustration. “Dad, isn’t it really just a formality now? It’s not like it means war to miss one signing. We’ll still be allies against-“

“It’s not just a formality, Hiccup,” the angry chief interrupted. “As allies, we must work together with Ironfort to defeat the Berserkers. Ironfort is strong but small, and Chief Ingialdr, though competent, is young and inexperienced in warfare. Without Berk as their right hand, the Adiarf’Rs don’t stand a chance.”

“And that means not only traveling there to sign the treaty,” Gobber added from his seat at the table behind them, “But also to form a strategy.”

Hiccup pursed his lips and let out an agitated breath from his nose. He hated it, but his father was right. There was no way they could stand by and let the entire island of Ironfort be destroyed just as the fishing fleet had been. Together Berk and Ironfort could defend themselves just as they had done a half-century ago. Hiccup had only two concerns. His father’s own safety and…

“What happens if the Berserkers attack Berk while you’re away.”

“Spitelout is more than capable of leading an army in my absence. We also have one major advantage that we did not have before. The young men and women of the academy will be in charge or our dragon forces. This is where you will come in.” Stoick approached his son and laid one of his massive hands on Hiccup’s bony shoulder. “Hiccup, you must brief your friends at once on what has happened. Make sure that every dragon in this town is ready to fight. Then later I want you to go to Dragon Island. Round up twelve dragons, train them, and bring them back to Berk.”

“Why twelve new dragons?” Hiccup asked.

“If Ironfort is to stand a chance against the Berserkers, they will need those dragons. Twelve will be enough to give Ingialdr and every member of his council a dragon to fight with. It won’t be much, but it will be a start.”

Hiccup nodded slowly. Training dragons for another tribe, even an allied tribe, made him nervous. He had first begun training them for peace, now he would be training them for war and, quite possibly, sending many to their deaths.

“But Dad, the dragons won’t do the Adiarf’Rs any good if they don’t know how to interact with them or how to train them.”

“I know,” Stoick stated matter-of-factly. “That’s why you and Toothless are coming with me.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” said Gobber, who the two had almost forgotten about. “You two can have your father-son…thing.”

Stoick nodded. “Thank you, Gobber. Assemble the war council and have them come here. Then have the teens gather at the academy and wait for Hiccup. Don’t tell anyone what is happening. It may cause a panic. Just tell them it’s standard precaution.”

The blacksmith simply nodded and hobbled out of the Great Hall, letting the giant doors clang shut behind him.

As the sound echoed thru the hall, the father and son let silence fall between them.

“Sooo…” Hiccup hesitated and spoke slowly, “You want me to go to Ironfort with you? So I can…”

Stoick picked up where Hiccup had allowed his sentence to trail off. “So you can teach the Adiarf’Rs how to train their own dragons.”

“But…the academy?”

“The academy will be just fine. Second only to your mother, Astrid Hofferson is the strongest, smartest, most courageous young woman I have ever known. She can lead them.” Stoick cocked an eyebrow and grinned down at his son. “She’ll make a fine wife for you some day, Hiccup.”

Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed in shock of what his father had just said. Sure he liked Astrid, _really_ liked her and had from the day he even knew what a girl was, but a _wife_ someday…

He averted his eyes and ran his fingers nervously thru his unruly dark auburn hair. “Um, can we maybe, you know, talk about…um…that later? You know, when we’re not planning a war?”

Stoick nodded and breathed deeply. That feeling in his chest was back, and this time it brought with it a tightening that made it hurt to breath. The pain traveled up this time making his ears ring and his face feel hot.

Hiccup noticed a subtly yet disturbing change in his fathers expression. His brow was creased and his eyes were heavy and seamed to be looking into some faraway place. It scared him.

“Dad?” When his father did not answer he repeated himself a tone louder. Dad!”

Stoick hurriedly shook his head. “What is it, son?”

Hiccup let out a sigh of relief that did not completely alleviate his worry. “You, um, sort of spaced out on me, Dad. You okay.”

“Of course I am. I just never expected something like this to happen again in my lifetime. But I’m glad in a way that it HAS happened while I am still around to guide you thru your first real war. Now go, son. Get your friends ready for your task on Dragon Island.”

Hiccup nodded at the mention of the assignment that he was dreading.

“Yeah. Twelve dragons. Got it.”

As Hiccup left for the academy, Stoick wondered for the first time what was wrong with him. The feelings in his chest were getting worse and spreading. It could be nothing, or it could be something serious, even life threatening. But he was on his way into a war! He did not have time to even think about getting sick.

So he did not think about it.  
....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

On the docks of an island miles and miles from Berk, yet another young chief stood with his eyes fixed on the calm rolling waves of the Great Sea. The light of the high-noon sun glinted off of the gold embellishments of his pure white silk tunic; his extremely long sand-colored hair blew in the wind behind him.

As a child Ingialdr had loved to sit in a circle with the other small boys around Bjorg, the old town blacksmith, and listen to him deliver dramatic orations telling of his war days; the decades-old conflict between their own tribe and the merciless Berserkers. Tales of burning ships, clanging swords and ferocious battle cries that had once enthralled him as a boy now filled him with terror and nauseating dread. Were those stories about to come back to life? Would the Adiarf’Rs and the Berserkers be once again immersed in bloody battle?

It had to have been the Berserkers, Ingialdr knew as he watched the broken, charred wood from his sunken ships wash up on the white sandy beach. Every so often the driftwood would be accompanied by the body of one of the poor fishermen who had perished at the hands of the newly appointed Berserker chief Dagur the Deranged.

“Ing, dear,” came a sweet voice behind him, pulling him out of his dark train of thought.

He turned around and smiled sadly at the woman before him. Every day she seamed to grow more radiant. Her hair was as black as a ravens wing, her eyes the exact shade of a storm cloud.

Ingialdr rushed to her and cupped her soft pale face in his strong hands. “Verdandi, my love you, you should be resting.”

“I had to be sure you were alright.” The chief’s wife looked past him at the beach that was now littered with ship parts and dead fisherman. Though she tried to hide it, her face showed her sorrow and her fear, especially her deep gray eyes. “Was it him?” she asked in a small, slightly trembling voice. “Was it Dagur?”

“You needn’t worry yourself, dear. In a few days the Hooligan chief Stoick the Vast will arrive. He will know what to do. He will help us build our army and defend ourselves against the Berserkers just as his ancestors did a century ago.”

Verdandi nodded and looked down. She wrapped her arms around her prominent belly where in her womb their child grew, soon to be born into a world of war.

“I hope you’re right, Ing. You’re a great chief. Our people love you. I love you. But our generation has never seen a war. Without the Hooligans…without Stoick…” She couldn’t finish her sentence; she only buried her face in her husbands shoulder and clenched her eyes shut, determined not to cry.

Ingialdr nodded slowly and stroked his pregnant wife’s pitch-black hair. She had not needed to finish her sentence. He knew what would happen without the Hooligans’ help, without their alliance.

Ironfort would surely fall.


	3. Future Chief of Berk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup is plagued by a crisis of conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo….. I just saw the last two episodes of DoB, View to a Skrill 1 and 2. It TOTALLY messed up the canon compliance and general flow of this fic with the Dreamworks Dragon franchise! Oh well. I’m not going back and changing stuff, so I will proceed as if VtaS never happened! It was an absolutely amazing episode, though. I won’t give you spoilers for it, but I will say is I did NOT see that twist coming!

“Come ON, you stupid dragon,” Snotlout grunted, tugging on the reigns of a newly trained purple and yellow colored Monstrous Nightmare. It was nearly time for the sun to set, and the teens had managed to assemble all twelve of the dragons that Stoick had asked for: Monstrous Nightmares, Nadders, and Grunkles, four of each.

The burly teen continued to pull on the reigns, trying to drag the dragon towards the ship that they had arrived in, but the dragon simply sat in the black, rocky sand and stared at him blankly.

“Snotlout, It’s not going to follow you if all you do is push it around,” Hiccup admonished, his frustration and exhaustion beginning to show in his voice. 

“Ha! Just goes to show how much you know about Monstrous Nightmares. It always works with Hookfang. Watch and learn.” Snotlout turned his head in the general direction of Hookfang, who was lounging on a rock down the beach. “Hay, Hookfang!” Snotlout called. The dragon barely looked up. “Get your lazy but over here and help me right now!”

The dragon only growled and laid his head back down, never once stepping off of his rock.

Hiccup shook his head and sighed. He turned around to check on Astrid and Fishlegs, all the while listening to Snotlout struggle with the dragon who was just as bore-headed and stubborn as any Viking. If there was one thing Vikings and dragons had always had in common from the beginning of time, Hiccup thought, it was stubbornness. 

Hiccup looked up at the ship and saw Astrid and Fishlegs both aboard.

Fishlegs noticed him and made a saluting gesture. “All four Grunkles present and accounted for!” he called to Hiccup.

“Great work, Fishlegs. How are the Nadders, Astrid?”

“Making themselves at home,” the shieldmaiden replied with a tiered smile.

“Where are Ruff and Tuff?”

Astrid glanced over across the ship where the Thorston twins were supposed to be tying makeshift reigns and harnesses to be used until real ones could be made. However, it appeared as though they were only succeeding in tying each other up.

“I think they’re trying to hang each other,” Astrid replied to Hiccup.

Hiccup shrugged. Of cores they were not doing their job. That is why he had given them busy work and not an important assignment. He had neither the time nor the patience to deal with another dragon trap fiasco that had only weeks before started a forest fire that the academy teens had just barely been able to contain before it reached the town. 

“That’s fine. Just keep them busy with that while I go check on our own dragons.”

Down the beach a way, the academy dragons were calmly minding their own business. Barf-and-Belch was wrestling with itself in a pile of driftwood, and Meatlug, Stormfly, and Toothless just sat and watched the goings-on intently. 

He wondered if any of the academy dragons knew what was really happening. Did they know he was giving those dragons away to be sent in to battle? 

And that’s when it hit him: an overwhelming feeling of…he did not even know what. Was it sorrow? Was it guilt? Was it fear? Or was it perhaps a bit off all of those terrible things? Those dragons, that trust they built with them in such a short time, trust that would very soon be broken…

Hiccup felt something grinding down deep in his gut and suddenly he had to get off of that beach. With a quick glance around to be sure no one saw him, he ran. He ran past the tree line and into the forest, stumbling and nearly tripping over logs and vines and holes in the ground numerous times. 

He was out of breath by the time he came to a small clearing. It was about the size of the academy training ring and covered in short, dark-green grass. He decided that this would be as good a place as any to stop and clear his mind. He seated himself on a moss-covered boulder near the center of the clearing, leaned forward and buried his dirty, sweaty face in his shaking hands.

“How in the sweet name of Thor’s mighty hammer did any of this even happen!?” he halfway cried into his palms. Just that morning he had been enjoying himself and going about his own way peacefully without a ripple in the pool of his everyday life. Now he and his tribe were war bound and he was running like a coward from the responsibilities given to him by his father. 

For a few moments he just sat there allowing his breathing to level out and his heart rate to return to normal. His attention spiked again when he heard a rustling sound at the tree line. His head snapped up and he almost panicked before he saw Toothless standing at the edge of the clearing with a worried look in his bright-green eyes. 

Hiccup sighed heavily in relief. “Thank Thor it’s just you, Bud. I don’t want to have to deal with any more wild dragons today.”

It had become a habit for Hiccup to talk out loud to Toothless as if he were speaking to a human being. He wondered sometimes if the dragon understood, but in his heart he knew that Toothless understood most if not all of what was being said or, at very least, the basic premise of what his rider was saying and feeling. It was a relief to Hiccup sometimes to have a sounding board of sorts, one that would not judge him or prod him for an answer that he did not have; someone to listen when he needed to talk something out.

“You DO understand what’s happening don’t you.”

Toothless lowered his head and hummed. He understood.

“We’ll be at war soon. You and me and all of our friends are about to be in the fight of our lives. Those dragons,” Hiccup made a sweeping gesture in the general direction of the beach, “They’re not going to be pets, companions, friends. They’re going to be warriors. Weapons.” He stood and paced around the rock, raking his fingers thru his hair looking at the ground and shaking his head like he was trying to make all of his unpleasant thoughts simply fall out of his brain. “I came out here, took these dragons away from their homes, their lives, maybe even their families. I lured them away from everything they know. I made them trust me! I made them feel safe!! And for what? So I can ship them off to war where some of all of them could be hurt or killed!?” 

Hiccup paused for a breath and realized that he had been yelling and the look in his dragon’s eyes had turned from concern to almost fear. This fact only worsened his guilt.

“I’m sorry, Bud.”

Hiccup sat back down on the rock. He felt rather than heard Toothless come up behind him and sit on the ground beside him. Hiccup reached out and stroked the rough scaly skin behind Toothless’ earflaps, eliciting a happy purr from the dragon.

“I feel like I’m lying to those dragons,” Hiccup sadly said in almost a whisper. “I feel like I’m betraying them. It feels so wrong, Toothless. SO horribly wrong. But for Berk, for Ironfort…” He paused a long moment and swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in his throat. “What choice do I have?” 

“War is full of tough choices, Hiccup.”

Hiccup was startled by the unexpected voice and turned around quickly to see Astrid approaching. 

“They don’t get any easier,” she continued, taking a seat on the rock next to Hiccup close enough that their arms touched. “If anything they just get tougher.”

“Thank you Astrid for not helping.” 

“I was just being honest, Hiccup. You’re the son of the chief, meaning someday you’ll BE the chief.”

Hiccup groaned. “Please don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true. Weather or not you want to hear it, it’s true.”

Hiccup nodded slowly. He did not want to think about the fact that someday his father would die just as every living thing must at some point. He was in no way ready for that grief…or that responsibility. 

“What if I can’t do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what if I can’t do it!” Hiccup stood and threw his hands in the air. “What if I can’t do any of this, Astrid? What if I screw everything up? What if I can’t make these choices? Or, what if I do an I make the wrong ones.”

Astrid thought for a moment before her reply. “You know, I have to admit, you’ve done some pretty stupid stuff. You’ve done some pretty crazy stuff. Insane stuff, even. But it’s always worked out in the end, hasn’t it? Hiccup, you know how to make tough choices, you’ve just never done it on this wide of a scale. Or with this much at stake.” 

“Astrid what are you talking about? I’ve never-“

“Are you saying you’ve never made tough choices before?” Astrid scoffed and shook her head. She stood from the rock and looked directly at Hiccup’s eyes, though he did not look at hers. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

Hiccup now stared at the ground with deep confusion. When had he ever done what Astrid said he had?

“You found Toothless in the woods tied up in the very roper you shot. You could have killed him then, but you didn’t. You WOULDN’T, remember? Wouldn’t. That’s a choice. You hid the nest to protect your best friend. That had to have been hard. And don’t even get me started on what happened with Hookfang in the ring. Was THAT easy?”

There was a silent pause between them for a moment, but Hiccup did not have time to really take in all that Astrid had said before she continued.

“Going up against the Red Death after you’d just made peace with your father, flying up there alone, risking death, Hiccup you lost half a leg to save two worlds and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a single regret.” 

“Not one,” Hiccup admitted without pause.

“Last time Alvin captured you, you faced execution, yours and Toothless’, rather then train the dragons that would war against your people. When the Screaming Death was destroying the islands, what did you do? Did you retreat? Did you fall back like even I told you to? No. You stood your ground. And when you stood on that rock and said without a quiver in your voice, ‘We make our stand here,’ you know what I was thinking?”

Hiccup looked at Astrid and for the first time in the conversation their eyes met. Hiccup was shocked at Astrid’s expression. This woman who usually seemed to be made of stone had tears in her eyes.

“Do you, Hiccup? Do you know what I was thinking?”

Hiccup cleared his throat. “Um…you were thinking, ‘this guy is nuts?’”

Astrid smiled slightly. “Well, that too. But mostly I was thinking, ‘There he is: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, our leader, future chief of Berk.’ And I was proud. Still mad at you, but proud. And I’ve never doubted you sense.”

Hiccup was dumbfounded. Astrid: beautiful, tough, strong-willed, courageous, headstrong Astrid was proud…of him? 

“Proud?” Hiccup muttered to himself.

Astrid huffed in sudden frustration. Her previous emotional showing was now gone. “Yes, Hiccup. Proud. I’m proud of you, okay? Is it that unbelievable to you that someone would be proud of you? Is your self-esteem really that low?” Astrid rolled her eyes. Without giving Hiccup a chance to answer her rhetorical question, she continued, “You know what? We’ll talk about it later. Right now we have the Adiarf’Rs dragons to worry about. Which reminds me…” 

Before Hiccup even noticed Astrid’s arm move, she balled her hand into a fist and punched him hard on the left shoulder.

Hiccup flinched and grabbed his arm. “Injure me before you send me of to battle, won’t you!” he exclaimed. 

“That was for running off and leaving me in charge of the twins.”

Hiccup shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I deserved that.”

“Yep. And you also deserve this.”

This time Hiccup did see Astrid’s arm move, and he braced himself for a hit; a hit that never came. Instead of punching him, Astrid grabbed the edge of Hiccup’s fur vest and pulled him towards her. Their lips met in a kiss for the fourth time in their young lives. But this kiss was different from the one after he awakened from a coma after defeating the Red Death, the one on the eve of Snoggeltog when he brought the dragons home, and the one in front of the stage in the arena after he graciously lost yet another Thawfest Games. Sure the act itself was identical: her lips on his, but something felt different. Something made his chest hurt, but he did not want to stop that ache if it meant stopping that kiss. 

But the kiss had to stop, because off in the distance the sound off crashing and shouting could be heard coming from the beach.

Astrid pulled away and did not miss a beat when she shouted, “Those kids better not have wrecked our ship!”

“Or let the new dragons get away,” Hiccup added.

The trio hurried back to the beach and they where only slightly relieved when they saw that their ship was thankfully still in one piece. 

“How many dragons escaped?” Hiccup called to the four teens he had left on the beach.

“None!” Tuffnut replied a bit too quickly. When Hiccup began counting the dragons, however, he confessed, though in his own Thorston sort of way. “It was Snotlout’s fault!”

“Hey, don’t look at me! It was Ruffnut who-“

“How many?!” Hiccup demanded.

“Um…Two Monstrous Nightmares and a Nadder,” Fishlegs finally admitted. "Though, if you’ll notice, none of MY Grunkles escaped."

Hiccup grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. “Do you four have any clue as to how serious this is? We’re about to be at war and you can’t keep track of the dragons who are going to be Ironfort’s ONLY defense against Dagur’s warships! How can I trust any of you to be with me in this if you can’t even-“

“Whoa, Hiccup,” Astrid interrupted, “Calm down. We’ll get them back. It’s okay.”

“No! No, it’s not okay Astrid. I…” Hiccup sighed and shook his head. “You heard the woman, guys. Get those dragons back!”

Work commenced immediately to re-capture the three escaped dragons, and Hiccup had no time to think about the things weighing on his mind, like what had gotten into him when he went, for lack of better words, berserk, on four of his closest friends.

Hiccup and Toothless looked at each other, and each could tell the other was thinking the exact same thing.

“You know what, Bud? I think I’m beginning to see why Dagur’s crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to assure everyone right now that I will NOT be portraying Hiccup as some image of perfection. He’s a flawed character, as is any good character in any written work. His flaws will show. And they will get him in trouble.


	4. A Strong Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, but the rest of what I wanted to write felt better as its own chapter, so here you go.

“What’s the state of our fleet, Hoark?” Stoick asked council member Hoark the Haggard. Stoick had called his council: Hoark, Phlegma, Spitelout, Gobber, and several others to the Great Hall to discuss the Berserker attack on Ironfort as well as their own plan of defense. 

“I’m afraid it’s not so good, Chief,” Hoark replied. “At last evaluation, most of our warships were in desperate need of repair.”

“See to it right away that it’s done,” the chief ordered. “Gobber, I hope you have better news on the armory.”

“Much better. In fact, I can’t remember a peacetime when we were better armed. Come to think of it, I can’t remember that many peacetimes at all before, well, the whole dragon thing.”

“Excellent. But it won’t be peacetime for long. I need you to make sure every ax, mace, and sword in prime condition. That includes the villagers’ personal weapons. Spitelout, what about large weaponry? Do we have enough catapults and those rope shooting contraptions my son made?” 

“Yes, sir,” he replied simply.

“Good. I want more. Phlegma, how many of our warriors have their own dragons?”  
Phlegma thought for a moment before she replied, “Almost all of them, I think. Nadders, Nightmares, Grunkles, even a couple of Zipplebacks. Hiccup and Fishlegs also taught us to use Terrible Terrors as scouts and messengers.”

“Good. Those dragons are going to be our most important weapons. Now as you all know, Hiccup and I will be gone for several days. We leave for Ironfort first thing in the morning to give our allies their dragons and the knowledge they will need to train and use them. Spitelout will be in charge in my absence. While Hiccup and I are gone, his orders will be equal to mine. For anything dragon related, you may still go to the academy. Hiccup has placed Phlegma’s daughter Astrid in charge of that. I assure you, she’s quite capable. 

“While I’m gone we need dragon riders in the sky watching every inch of this island and its surrounding waters night and day. You’re to sound the alarm if you so much as think you see a single Berserker ship. Phlegma is in charge of arranging that schedule. Use the academy teens as much as you can for this, Phlegma, because we need our warriors’ top priority to be getting every single vestal battle ready. We want to meet the enemy at sea with both the ships and the dragons before they reach the island. Hoark is in charge of overseeing ship repairs.

“Gobber, inspect the armory tonight. Make sure …”

Suddenly he stopped. Stoick had always considered himself composed and organized. But for the first time in his life he actually forgot what he was saying.

“Um, Stoick?” Gobber questioned.

“Is something wrong?” Phlegma asked.

It hurt to breath again. The pain in his chest was back worse than it had been all day. It was as if a red-hot sword was being driven straight thru his heart. The fiery pain shot up his spine and his jaw tightened like a vice causing his teeth to grind together painfully. Even had he been able to find the words to speak, he could not have moved his mouth to do so. He felt hot like the forge in summertime and there might as well have been a Grunkle on his chest the way he struggled for every breath.

Throughout the room the counsel members watched helplessly as every speck of color drained from their fearless leader’s face. Spitelout rushed to another table and dragged over a chair, hurriedly placing it behind Stoick.

“Sit down Stoick, before you collapse.”

Just when he thought no worse pain was possible, a fireball of agony erupted inside of him and he could see nothing but stars before his eyes. He wanted to cry out from the pain the likes of which he had never experienced in all of his life’s battles, but all that came from his throat was a strangled groan.

Phlegma and Hoark each took one of Stoick’s arms and eased him down in the chair that Spitelout had brought.

“Gobber, bring him some water,” Phlegma ordered. Not minding to be gentle, she shook the ailing chief. “Stoick, what’s happening can you hear me? Stoick? STOICK!” 

……………………………………………………………………………… 

“Toothless, calm down, Bud,” Hiccup soothed and rubbed the dragon’s shoulder in attempt to calm him down. For several minutes now the Night Fury had been uncontrollably bouncing and jumping all over the ship, mast to rail, port to starboard, all the while shrieking like he was desperately trying to say something. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s pretty obvious to me,” Said Snotlout, who was lounging against Hookfang with his feet propped up on an empty bucket. “He just doesn’t like ships because he was chained up the last, what, three times he was on one.”

“That would be understandable,” Astrid reasoned, “but he wasn’t like this on the way TO Dragon Island. It just started on the way home.” 

“According to the Book of Dragons,” Fishlegs quoted, “Strike Class dragons have a special ‘sixth sense,’ like they can feel when something bad is happening. So maybe…” the brainy teen paused in fright and his eyes widened when he realized what he was saying “…something bad is happening?”

Hiccup nodded, considering all three possibilities. “He doesn’t like ships or crowds, and there is quite a crowd here. Either that or…” Hiccup lost track of what he was saying when he remembered his conversation with is father earlier that day.

“What if the Berserkers attack Berk while you’re away?”

“Or what, Hiccup?” Astrid prompted, bringing him back to the present. 

“Or something bad IS happening!” Halfway in a panic, Hiccup quickly mounted Toothless’ saddle. “You guys stay on the ship and take the new dragons straight to the academy when you get back to Berk. Toothless and I are going to fly ahead.” 

He said nothing more and allowed for no reply before he and Toothless took off into the darkening sky.

As Hiccup and Toothless flew at their top speed homeward, Hiccup dreaded what he would come home to if there was, if fact, something terribly wrong as Fishlegs had insinuated. He prayed to every god and goddess whose name he knew that, what ever it was, he would be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good day for a heart attack, isn't it guys?


End file.
